Yucatan Diary Day 13
Merida and Celestun, Yucatan
by Ben White
posted 01/20/05
The lotus is a Hindu and Buddhist symbol of enlightenment, a flower of exquisite beauty that grows and unfolds from the darkest mud and foulness. I nominate the orange as the equivalent symbol in Mexico. Like the Israeli sabra, the desert flower that comes from the toughest spiny plant, the orange grows well across the shallow Yucatan limestone soil. On the hottest days, it presents such unlikely spheres of sweetness tucked away in there amongst the long green thorns. When they have nothing else to sell, the poor folks line the road with their pyramids of oranges- Mayan enlightenment- whole with their skins, peeled to their white inner velvet, or cut up into a bag with, of course, lime and hot pepper.
Reminds me of the story of a whole big family of people in Europe during World War II cherishing a very rare orange they happened to get on the black market. Maybe it was Ann Frank´s family. But what I remember was the joy at being able to have an entire slice. And to enjoy it skinny bubble of flavor at a time. Plain old oranges. All of the commonplace miracles around us!
This morning I was a little saddened to hear the Ewing was reported to be readying their gear just as I was watching the trees out in the courtyard from my room not being buffeted by the wind. But I shouldn´t have jumped to conclusions. By the afternoon, you folks had woken up and started your daily constitutional of blowing towards Mexico to gently rock the seismic ship Maurice Ewing just enough so they cannot begin blasting the life of the Yucatan with their airguns. Still no word from the Port Captain or other government officials that all is in order and the Ewing can begin. Every day that passes, we win another day without the assault by sound.
Thanks to Bud Abbott of Strategic Environmental out in California for hurrying me information about the effects of sound in the water that I could share with the Port Captain. Bud works with Caltrans, the California Department of Transportation, to reduce the effects of their bridge building on fish, including building bubble curtains to catch some of the pressure from pile driving. Bud reminds me about the snapping shrimp that filled my ears one night when I was trying to break the orcas out of the Victoria B.C. marine park after they had been sold to Sea World (but before they were moved.)
Snapping shrimp are the big gunslingers of the Spongebob Sqarepants world down there. They go up to things they want to eat like benthic organisms and plankton, cock their claw, and let it slap shut. Pow! The little things die and get eaten, at many orders of magnitude less powerful levels of sound than what the Ewing is using. Bud says, concerning the Ewing guns, "I suspect the impact on the food web could be very significant." And, "If the skipper of the research vessel is willing to put his head underwater at 5 meters from an airgun and let an airgun go off then I guess there is no reason to forbid them to do their work." Sounds imminently fair to me. What ever happened to do unto others? Did that admonition exclude benthic organisms?
Back in the early 1900´s when the Pope was asked to intervene on behalf of horses subjected to cruelty on the streets of New York, the Holy See responded after a while in the negative, explaining that horses have no souls. Guess they never met a horse. But benthic organisms and planktonic creatures are such a generator of different forms of life, it seems that a good argument could be made. Maybe to someone else.
Speaking of tiny life, my daughter Julia and I took a boat out into the mangroves near Celestun today to spend a little time together before she has to fly home on Friday. If you look down into the coffee colored water, it is like looking into soup a-swim with lots of squiggling things. Microscopic minnows fill the spaces between the mangrove roots that grip the mud. Ibises and great white herons, white pelicans launching and forming into a V, immature flamingoes not yet pink, osprey overhead cruising, pterodactlyl-like frigate birds with forked tails soar, throats white against black bodies. An eight foot alligator with mouth agape lies on a chunk of concrete protruding from the water as if pretending to be dead so we come and put our heads in his mouth. And dotting the shallow water as far as you can see is a strange sight, men down in the water leaning against their little wooden boats, catching shrimp. Seems they throw out a net with its mouth held open by a triangular frame. Ropes coming off each corner of the frame are attached to the barquito, which is then pushed in front of the man walking in the water, theoretically scooping up the shrimp. I was told they do alright for their long day in the water- on a good day catching 5 kilos of shrimp which they can sell to the local restaurants for 100 pesos (10 dollars) each.
If the ship has not started their pounding of the coast by Monday, I will probably go to Mexico City, here called Day Effie (as in D.F. for Distrito Federal) to deliver my translated evidence of the harm the Ewing can be expected to cause. I need to go see both allies and the people responsible for signing the permit allowing the Ewing to work. Need to unruffle some feathers too. Greenpeace is apparently objecting to the fact that the papers keep saying that I work for them. We are in agreement in this, I would much rather that my real employer Animal Welfare Institute get any credit or attention generated. But no matter how many times I tell them, they still write that I am with Greenpeace. I guess forever more they will be the only group associated with trying to stop a ship at sea with their bodies.
Not really all that excited about going to the big city. The really big city- with the most humans of any city on Earth. Of all places! Over seven thousand feet high, so everything has to be shipped expensively uphill, like water. And when they built it they filled in the lakes of Tenochtitlan, wrecking the floating gardens that helped make it the most lovely city anywhere in the world at the time. So now when they build everything sinks. They have even engineered the subways so they can flex with the falling level of the soil. But Day Effie is the crazy head of this big country, and it is there that some people could pull the plug on this foolish gringo study by the Barco Asesino.
Give me the countryside and the little villages anyday. As soon as you get beyond the ring of industrial plants outside of Merida, the real Mexico begins. In most of the villages, the passing car is outnumbered ten to one by bicycles- both the regular two wheeled ones and, much more numerous, the ones with a broad seat in front between two wheels pedaled by someone behind in front of one. Often with a surrey on top, just like the old song. These are used for everything from taking grandmother to the store, all tidy and wrapped up in a shawl against the cold, or for picking up bags of rice. We saw a young woman today pedaling with her baby riding in front, wincing against the wind and gripping the metal rail with both hands. Couldn´t have been more than eighteen months old! In one town some kids had been picked up by trike taxis and were being wheeled home past the ones walking.
Lines of flags, cutout and colored paper of different designs, flutter in the wind across the narrow streets and from the dry ground to the top of the old cathedrals that preside over each town. Speed bumps, sometimes just fat poly ropes, keep the scarce traffic slow. And on either side of the road, the predominant form of home is almost the same as two hundred years ago: stone ovals with the longer side facing the road with a door in the middle. Roof thatched with palm fronds (hueso). Often no windows. Look inside and you see a door leading out the back directly opposite the front one, with a hammock strung on either side. Dark but cool The only bow to modernity is the corrugated tin sheet tied along the peak to take care of the first shedding of water. The stone walls are whitewashed as are, for some reason, all the big trees up to about 4´ high. Old campaign slogans fade against the whitewash.
We are still looking for a boat to take us out to the Ewing should they begin their nastiness. Lots of leads. Other than this tease, I will keep any progress in this direction to myself until we are ready, for obvious reasons.
One more day of peace for the myriad creatures of the Yucatan. I hope it stays this boring.
Thanks for everyone´s interest, prayers, love and good wishes.
This campaign, and my salary, is being paid for by the Animal Welfare Institute. Tax exempt contributions will be happily accepted at Animal Welfare Institute, Box 3650, Washington, DC., 20027.
Love and revolution,
ben
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